Cat's In The Cradle
by BoomerCat
Summary: Jeff Tracy comes home from a trip. A story from the Tracy boys' childhood.


_A/N: As always, my thanks to my super betas Sam and Lynn. This story is a result of a discussion a while ago on TIWF concerning what kind of Dad Jeff Tracy was. _

**Cat's In The Cradle**

By Boomercat

Jeff Tracy climbed out of the rented SUV and stretched in the cool clear Kansas midnight air. It was good to be home. The business trip had been highly productive, but had taken him far from his home and family.

He knew that the time was rapidly approaching when he would have to make some decisions about moving somewhere closer to a major business center. For the moment he wanted his young sons to enjoy the rural upbringing that he had had as a child. As he crossed the gravel driveway, he pushed the thoughts of moving aside. All he wanted at the moment was to check on his sleeping boys and then collapse into his own bed.

Entering through the mud room, he opened the kitchen door and was surprised to see his mother still up, sitting at the old farm table. "Mom! You didn't have to wait up," Jeff called softly.

The older woman looked up, startled. "Oh, for heaven's sake! Look at the time! I decided to organize my recipes, and the evening just slipped away from me." Ruth Tracy smiled tiredly at her son. "Sit down, honey, let me get you something to eat. How was your trip?"

"The flight was fine, it was the aftermath that gave me trouble. Mom, I not really hungry, don't put yourself out."

"It's no trouble, dear. I put some stew back for you. I'll just heat it up."

"No, Mom, really. I had dinner in town. I got off the plane and out to the car, and would you believe it, the damn thing wouldn't start. Had to have it towed. At first they said it was the carburetor and would take an hour or so, so I went and got a couple of sandwiches." Jeff's voice took on a tone of exasperation. "Then after I waited for over three hours, they said it couldn't be repaired, and they'd have to replace it. And they didn't have the replacement in stock. And the suppliers were all closed. I had to scramble to get a rental before the agency closed."

"Well, you're home safe and sound now. How about some berry cobbler? The boys went over to help Mrs. Kinsey strip her berry patch, and she gave them a bucketful to bring home."

"Now, that does sound good. How did you manage to save me any from the ravening horde?"

"Oh, those boys! You know they ate three berries for every one they dropped in the bucket. I truly believe Winnie Kinsey has them come just to save herself the work of putting those berries up. Not a one of them could finish his dinner."

Jeff chuckled. "Well, I for one am glad. Mrs. Kinsey may have the sweetest berries in three counties, but you make the best cobbler in three states!"

"Oh, get on!" Ruth pursed her lips in a show of irritation, but the flush in her cheeks betrayed her pleasure at the compliment. She set a plate of cobbler and a cup of coffee before her son, then sat down to watch him eat.

Jeff took a huge bite and then sat back, a rapturous look on his face. "Yup. Best in three states. So, how's the baby?"

"Alan is just fine, Jeff. I told you it was just the sniffles." With a sigh, she continued. "Gordon picked it up, of course. Poor little dear, he was just lost without his playmate. I tried to keep them apart, but sure enough, I found them snuggled together in bed and I had no heart to separate them. Next thing you know, Alan's fine, and Gordon's nose is running."

"So Gordon is sick?"

"No, that was last week, dear. He's fine now. We've worked our way past Alan, Gordon and John. It's Virgil's nose that was running last night. Scott says he feels 'like a sick man walking'."

Jeff shared his mother's affectionate smile at his eldest son's wit. Finishing a final bite of the cobbler, he wiped his mouth on a paper napkin and stood. "Well, I think I'll go check on the boys then hit the sack. Thank you for that cobbler, Mom. It was wonderful."

Ruth waved the compliment away. "What about your suitcase? Aren't you going to bring it in tonight?"

"No, it'll be fine in the car. I'll have the boys help me unload in the morning."

"Unload? There's something more than your suitcase?"

Jeff eyed his mother. "Yeah there is. I had a lot of time on my hands and the repair shop was across from a mall."

"You went shopping?" Ruth couldn't help the note of surprise. Jeff had always left the shopping to the women in his life.

"Well, yes," he said sheepishly. "I saw a sign in a hobby shop, sketchpads two for the price of one."

"You got Virgil some sketching paper? That's nice, dear."

"I did. But I didn't know which kind to get, so I got a bunch of different ones."

"A bunch?"

Jeff nodded, continuing. "And then I found this great artist set. Over two hundred pieces. Everything from watercolors to pastel chalks."

"Oh my."

"Then, of course, I figured I couldn't get something for Virgil and nothing for the rest of the boys…"

"Of course."

"Now, Mom, I know what you're going to say, and I agree that I don't want to spoil them. But, you know, I've been away so long, and the contracts that I signed are going to mean big money. Really big money. I wanted to get my boys some toys, so I did. Just this once, Mom." Jeff tried to keep his tone level, but a touch of defiance had crept in.

To his surprise, his mother was smiling gently. "Honey, I don't have any problem with you getting the boys a few gifts, but you need to understand the only gift they really want or need is your time and attention."

Deflated, Jeff shook his head. "I know Mom, I try, but…"

Ruth raised her hand to forestall the excuse. "Just do me one favor, son."

"What's that, Mom?"

"Tomorrow, I want you to put aside your laptop and your contracts and your plans for big money and turn off your cell phone and spend just one day with your children. Can you do that?"

Jeff thought of all the follow up his trip was going to require. The contracts were signed, complete with near impossible deadlines. He needed to get the sub-contractors locked in and his design team needed the new specs. Taking a day off could be fatal.

But when he thought of his sons and how precious they were to him… "I'll tell you what, Mom. Give me until eleven a.m., and I'll take the rest of the day off."

It was a compromise, but Ruth nodded, accepting the necessity. "Well, you better get yourself to bed, then. The boys will be up at the crack of dawn and there'll be no peace in the house after that."

Suddenly overcome with weariness, Jeff smiled. "Goodnight, Mom."

"Goodnight, honey."

Jeff made his way up the creaking old stairs. The first room he came to was Gordon and Alan's. Quietly opening the door, he first looked to the upper bunk, where the sheets and blankets were jumbled together at the foot of the bed. If it weren't for the telltale tufts of unruly red hair sticking up in the middle of the pile, he might have thought the bed was empty. He gently disentangled his sleeping son from the blankets and straightened out the bed and the boy. Finger combing the soft red hair, Jeff watched six-year-old Gordon sleep. Sometimes he marveled at how strong his love for his sons was.

After a few minutes, Jeff shook off his reverie and bent down to the lower bunk. Alan, his baby boy was sleeping soundly, his arm wrapped tightly around a battered old stuffed rabbit. Jeff lowered himself down to kiss the child on the forehead, brushing his lips against the bright golden hair. Tucking the blankets in, he reflected that there was no place in the world where he felt such a sense of peace as in his sleeping sons' room.

With a sigh of contentment, Jeff stood. Glancing at the upper bunk, he did a doubletake, then grunted in exasperation. In the few moments that he had spent with Alan, Gordon had managed to tangle himself and his blankets back into a heap at the foot of the bed. Jeff considered straightening the child out a second time but decided there was no point. With a soft chuckle, he left the room.

Across the hall was John's room. Jeff frowned when he saw a very faint glow emanating from the crack at the bottom of the door. He had thought the nine-year-old had outgrown his need for a nightlight months ago. A guilty thought that the boy was regressing because Jeff didn't spend enough time with him surfaced.

Stepping softly across the hall, Jeff pushed open his middle son's door. He caught a glimpse of a light quickly extinguished and a furtive movement of the sheets. With a wry shake of his head, Jeff crossed the room and perched on the side of the bed and waited.

John, who had been artfully feigning sleep, finally opened his eyes a crack. When he realized who was sitting there, his eyes flew open and he reached up begging for a hug. "Daddy!"

Jeff laughed and gathered his son into his arms. "How's my boy?"

"I'm good, Daddy. I didn't know you were coming today."

"Were you good for Grandma?" Jeff asked with a smile. The small body stiffened in his arms. After a few moments, Jeff prompted, gently, "Johnny, were you a good boy?"

In a tiny voice, the towhead replied, "Mostly."

Jeff released his tight hug, and with a gentle hand, lifted the boy's chin to look him in the eye. "What happened, son?"

Unable to look away, John replied in shame. "I hit Allie."

Jeff pursed his lips. "Why would you hit your baby brother?"

To Jeff's surprise, John replied somewhat spitefully, "Because Gordy ran away too fast."

"John! I'm surprised at you! Your brothers are both little boys. I thought you knew better than to hit them."

"But Daddy, they wrecked my Monopoly game!" The young blond was full of righteous indignation.

"How did they do that?"

"They were sticking the houses up their noses. They got boogers all over them."

Jeff fought the urge to laugh. It was just the kind of thing the two youngsters would do. But in the interest of parental guidance, he shook his head. "Son, no toy or game is as important as your brothers. Did you apologize to Alan for hitting him?"

"Yes, Daddy. Grandma made me."

"John, you should apologize because you're sorry, not because someone made you. When I was your age, I would have given anything to have four brothers like you. You treat your brothers well now, and you'll have friends for the rest of your life."

John heaved a tragic sigh. "I know, Daddy, but sometimes they just make me so mad."

"Well, the next time they make you mad, I want you to count to two thousand, three hundred and forty-six. If you're still mad, then come to me and I'll let them have it."

"Two thousand, three hundred and forty-six?" John's face was screwed up in a tight frown.

"Yep. If you can count that high, and still be mad, then it's something worth being mad about."

"Okay, Daddy." John said, still a bit doubtful.

"All right, then. How about I tuck you in and you get some shut-eye?"

John obediently wiggled down under the covers and Jeff tucked the blankets around his son. When he felt something hard at the boy's side, he reached under the blanket and pulled out a flashlight and a book. Putting both items on the bedside table, he said mildly, "No more reading tonight. Sleep well, son."

"G'night, Daddy."

Jeff left his son's room closing the door behind him. He shook his head ruefully as he made his way to the next bedroom. The plastic-house-up-the-nose was undoubtedly Gordon's idea. He'd have to have a talk with the boy about respecting other people's property.

Reaching his son Virgil's room, he took a deep breath and opened the door. His second eldest was sprawled across the bed, arms and head hanging over the side. Virgil had the ability to sleep through anything. His brother Scott was of the opinion that that included nuclear attack. Given the messy state of the eleven-year old's room, Jeff wasn't sure that the attack hadn't already happened. He picked up the discarded clothing from the floor and dumped it in the hamper.

He looked with interest at the neat piles of model parts on the desk. Virgil had been fascinated with model building since he was eight. The model he was working on at the moment was a complex and detailed copy of the Army's latest battle tank. Jeff was tickled at the precision his son displayed in his building technique. He could only hope his mother was right and that precision would spill over into Virgil's personal habits as the boy grew older.

Jeff walked to the bed and pulled his son up, straightening him out as he had Gordon. With the blankets tucked in, he placed his hand on the boy's forehead, checking for any sign of fever. Finding none, he left the room and stepped across the hallway to his last stop.

Again seeing light under the door, Jeff knocked softly before opening it. Scott looked up from his computer and seeing his father, smiled. "Dad! You're home!"

With a grin, Jeff entered the room. "How are you, son?"

"I'm fine, sir. How was your trip?"

"Very good. Very productive. How did things go here? Any problems?"

"No, nothing I couldn't handle."

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "I hear John was hitting his brothers."

"Well, he smacked Allie, but he apologized. He had a reason. Gordy and Al got into his room and started messing with his stuff."

"That still doesn't make it right."

"Yeah, I told him that. It wasn't that big a deal."

"All right. What are you working on so late?"

"Nothing. Just playing a game."

"Don't you think it's about time you hit the sack?"

"Yeah, okay Dad. I'm glad you're home."

"I'm glad to be home," Jeff smiled. "Oh, keep the kids away from the SUV tomorrow morning, will you? I've got some stuff in there that I want to surprise them with."

"You bought an SUV?"

"No, it's a rental. Long story. I'll tell you about it tomorrow."

"Okay Dad. Good night."

"Good night, son." Jeff left the room reflecting that his eldest son was growing up fast. He has always been able to speak to the young man as an equal, and as his business took off, he relied more and more on Scott to act as his surrogate in family matters.

Feeling well contented that all was right with his world, Jeff finally made it to his bedroom. Exhausted, he stripped off his clothes and fell into bed drifting into sleep within minutes.

The next morning, Jeff awoke to the sun in his face and a whispered argument. "Alan! Come out of there! Dad's sleeping!" Virgil's indignant whisper was strident. Without opening his eyes, he could tell Virgil was standing in the doorway.

Alan's sweet voice, however, was so close to his ear, he could feel the boy's warm breath. "I'm not waking him. I'm just watching."

With a yell, Jeff pounced, snatching up Alan and lifting him high above the bed. Alan shrieked his delight, "Daddy! Daddy!"

"I've got you now!" Dropping his son down onto his chest, Jeff hugged the squirming boy close. "You'll never escape my clutches, so don't even try!"

"Oh, yes I will, Daddy!" Alan cried excitedly, squirming all the harder. Jeff pulled his son up and blew a wet raspberry against the soft neck, sending the boy into a fit of giggles. "Virgie! Help me!"

The older boy clearly wanted to join in, but stood hesitating in the doorway. "You think Virgil can save you? Ha! You'd better think again, kiddo! I can take you and Virgil both!"

Virgil's eyes lit up and with a warrior yell, he ran and leapt onto the bed. A raucous wrestling tickling match ensued. The noise soon attracted Gordon and John who both leaped into the fray with great relish.

When Scott stuck his head in, Jeff was practically invisible under a dogpile of wiggling, shrieking bodies. "Dad? Need some help?"

Tickling the closest handy belly, Jeff replied, "Help? I don' need no stinkin' help!"

John breathless from laughing called out, "Scotty, help me!"

"No, help me, Scotty, help me!" Gordon cried.

With a sly grin, Scott once again addressed his father. "What'll you give me to just walk away?"

Giving Alan another neck raspberry, Jeff laughed. "What, you think I'm afraid of you? Bring it on, kid!"

Scott's grin grew predatory as the fourteen-year-old cocked his head, considering the best approach. Jeff was busy fending off his other sons and eventually turned his attention to Virgil who was making a determined foray to tickle Jeff's ribs.

Jeff caught both of Virgil's wrists in his hand when Scott used his full weight to pin Jeff's other arm down. "John, help Virg." Scott ordered in a businesslike tone. "Gordy, sit on his legs. Alan, give him a big juicy kiss."

The boys immediately followed their brother's lead with the result that Jeff found himself held flat on his back. With Alan zeroing in for the kill, he cried in mock horror, "No! Not that!"

Giggling madly, Alan flung his arms around Jeff's neck and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Jeff hadn't spent fifteen years training hard in the Air Force for nothing. He suddenly lifted his arms, gathering four of his sons in a bear hug.

Little Gordon, lying across his father's legs, was quick to take advantage of the situation, climbing on top of his brothers, lifting his arms in triumph and crying excitedly. "I win! I win!"

"Gordon David Tracy! You get down from there! You'll fall and break your neck!" Ruth Tracy stormed into the room. "You boys get off of your father. Go and get dressed. Now. I want you all at the breakfast table in five minutes. Now, get!"

The five boys reluctantly left their fun and headed for their various bedrooms. Jeff rolled up on his side, and lifted his head to his rest on his hand. "Aw, Mom, we were just playing."

Ruth turned a glare on her son, hands on hips. "Don't you 'aw, Mom', me, mister. It's after eight in the morning. You've promised me you'd spend time with the boys today, and I intend to hold you to that promise, so get yourself out of bed and get to work. I'll bring you some breakfast in your office."

"Yes, ma'am." Jeff knew better than to cross his mother. What Ruth Tracy lacked in physical statue she more than made up for in indomitable spirit. Jeff got up, and hit the shower. Within ten minutes he was clean, shaved and dressed for the day.

He climbed a dark narrow stairway to the attic of the old house. Flipping a switch, the small room he had commandeered for his office lit up with fluorescent lighting. White walls, metal file cabinets and a professional desk gave the room an impersonal feel that Ruth railed against, but that Jeff preferred. It gave him a feel of separation that he needed to do his work. He booted up two separate computers, and dialed the connection with his plant in St. Louis. Within moments he was online with his admin assistant, Rosemary O'Sullivan. "Good Morning, Rosie."

"Good Morning. How was your flight?"

"The less said the better. I want you to set up a conference with Matumbe and his team. I'll be faxing the specs for the XHT-29, and I want to go over them."

"All right. Will one o'clock be all right?"

"No, I want it right away. Nine o'clock. And get Patterson over at KimTech for me."

"I'll get him right away."

"Oh, and Rosie, I'll only be online until eleven. Seems I have a play date with my boys. I want you to take half day off too. Your kids would probably like to see you too."

The woman broke into a grin. "Yes, they probably would. Thank you, Jeff."

Jeff acknowledged the thanks with a brief smile before putting the computer on standby. He turned to pick up his briefcase, and remembered with some annoyance that he had left it in the SUV the previous evening. As he stood to go get it, there was a tap on the door and it opened, Scott backing in carrying in a tray with Jeff's breakfast.

"Oh, thanks, son. Listen, will you go down to the car and bring me up my briefcase? I left it down there last night." Jeff took the laden tray from his son. "The keys are on my dresser."

"Sure thing, Dad. I'll be back in a flash."

Jeff set the tray down to one side and turned to his computer, opening his email. As he read, he picked up a fork and stabbed a sausage. Typing with one hand, he took a bite and chewed. After a moment he stopped reading and really looked at the plate of food his son had brought him. It was a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage and toast, but having spent most of the last six weeks overseas, it suddenly seemed like the most luxurious of delicacies. He took a few moments to savor the sheer simplicity of the food.

Hearing the thunder of footsteps coming up the stairs, he looked up at the door expectantly. With a perfunctory tap, Scott opened the door, carrying his father's briefcase. Virgil trod on his older brother's heels. "Dad! Can Scott and I look under the hood on that Rigor? I promise I won't break it."

Scott rolled his eyes. "I told him we were supposed to stay away from it, but you know how he is."

"No, son, that car is just a rental. I don't want you boys fiddling with it. Don't you have chores to do?"

"Yeah, but they aren't going to take all day." Virgil's tone was whiny. The boy didn't take disappointment well.

Jeff considered relenting, but remembering the repair bill from the last time the eleven-year-old had 'looked under the hood', he decided he had to stand firm. "Well, you'd best get to it, then, and let me get to my work."

"Come on, Virg. I'll race you to the barn."

"I get a head start."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

The argument faded away as Scott shut the door, and the boys headed down the stairs. Jeff turned his attention to his briefcase, and he started pulling reports out and spreading them across the desk. Within moments, breakfast was forgotten as he concentrated on his work.

Three hours later, he was deep in conference with his executive design team when his son Alan came in. "Daddy, Grandma said to tell you it's eleven o'clock."

Jeff glanced up at his son. "All right, Alan. Thank you." He turned back to what was being said. After a few moments, he realized Alan was still standing at the front of his desk. "Hold on a moment, Pasquale. Was there something else, son?"

Looking worried, Alan shook his head. "Grandma said not to come back without you."

Frowning in irritation, Jeff said, "This is going to take Daddy a while longer. Why don't you go wait in your room?"

"No, Daddy. She said for me to stay right here until you're done." Alan stood wringing his hands. Jeff bit his tongue. It was obvious his mother knew that she was stressing the boy, and knew it how it would affect Jeff to see his son so worried. But he couldn't just end the conference, there was too much at stake.

"All right. Go get that chair, and sit quietly."

The boy went to a corner and dragged the chair there over to the desk, then climbed onto it and sat staring mournfully at his father. Jeff tuned him out and went back to his conference. A short time later, Jeff was startled when Gordon burst into the room. "Daddy, Grandma says to tell you it's eleven fifteen."

Jeff took a deep steadying breath. "Give me a moment, people. Gordon, go tell your Grandmother I said I'd be awhile. And take Alan with you."

"Grandma said to tell you if you have something to say, you have to come and say it yourself. She said if I came down without you, I can't have dessert for a week. Daddy, Grandma made brownies. I really like brownies, Daddy, so you have to come."

"Don't you tell me what I have to do, young man. I'm in the middle of something, and I can't just stop. You sit down there with your brother. And keep quiet. I'll wrap this up, and then we'll go have a word with your grandmother."

Gordon obediently climbed into the chair next to Alan. "Scoot over, Allie."

"I'm already scooted."

"Quiet, boys." Jeff ordered, then turned back to his conference. "Now, Kine, what were you saying about the hydraulics?"

"Yes, if we align the master lines with the optic transmission lines, we'll be able to save some space."

"And that will give us more room for the converter!" Pasquale Linano said with satisfaction.

The minute his attention was on the computer screen, it started. At first he heard the electric stapler… over and over. He glanced at the two boys. They were keeping themselves busy stapling one piece of paper to another. As it seemed a relatively harmless pastime, Jeff ignored it.

"No, we must consider that space for the weapons systems." Martin Limbeck argued.

"Those systems won't be much use if we don't have a functional converter."

Jeff sighed, "Gentlemen, we don't have time for bickering."

He found the surreptitious giggling a bit harder to ignore, but he just tensed his shoulders and stared all the harder at his screen. He couldn't ignore it when Alan started to shriek, though, and he looked up to find both boys covered with highlighter marks.

Counting to ten to control his temper, Jeff said, "Boys, it's a beautiful day out, why don't you go outside and play?"

"Okay, Daddy." Alan said brightly, climbing down from the chair.

Just as Jeff sent a silent prayer of thanks for short attention spans, Gordon grabbed the back of Alan's shirt, hissing, "Grandma, Allie. Don't forget Grandma."

"Oh yeah. Daddy, Grandma said I have to stay here until you're done."

As the five-year-old climbed back onto the chair, the door to the office opened, and in came Johnny. "Dad, Grandma said to tell you it was eleven thirty."

Groaning inwardly, Jeff growled sharply. "John, you go tell your grandmother that I'll be down when I'm good and ready and not one moment sooner."

John blinked at the angry tone, then hung his head, not looking at his father. "I will, Daddy. I'm sorry I made you mad."

Shoulders slumped, the boy turned away, leaving Jeff feeling about two inches tall. "Wait, Johnny. Come here, son." John slowly turned and came over to the desk, not once looking up. Alan and Gordon sat on their chair, eyes wide, but not moving. "Johnny, I'm sorry I yelled at you. You boys all know that when Daddy is working, he needs to be left alone, don't you?"

All three boys nodded their heads, apparently afraid to say anything out loud. "And you all know why Daddy works so hard, don't you?"

Two blond heads obediently nodded, but Gordon cocked his head, his face screwed into a puzzled frown. "No, Daddy. How come?"

Jeff was taken aback. He had not honestly expected the question. He glanced at his computer monitor to see his design team all staring back at him, apparently as curious as his young son. Frowning, he started to answer, thought the better of it, started again, and again paused.

Annoyed, he dismissed the whole line of thought. "It doesn't matter right now. What matters is I do need to work, and I can't do it if you boys are all here pestering me. Now, I want you to go downstairs, and tell your grandmother I will be down shortly. And Gordon, you can tell her I said you can have dessert this week."

Gordon's eyes were as wide as saucers, but before he could say anything, Scott entered with Virgil, and with crossed arms, leaned on the doorjamb saying, "Dad, a wise man once told me never mess with the woman who makes the meals."

Jeff sighed, partly in exasperation, partly in relief. "Scott, good, you're here. I want you to take your brothers out. I need to finish this conference, it can't wait."

Scott gave his head a despairing shake. "Okay, Dad, if that's what you want. Come on guys, we'll go play some ball."

"But, Scotty, Grandma said to stay here."

"I know, Allie, but that's because she didn't know how important this conference was. Come on, it'll be okay."

"Can I be the batter, Scotty?"

"No, Scott, don't let him! He can't hit at all!"

"Johnny, Gordy asked first, so he gets to bat first. You'll get your chance."

The conversation continued, fading away down the stairs. Jeff stared after them as they left. He felt like he had missed something, but he didn't quite know what it was. He turned back to his design team. "Sorry for the interruption, men. Now, where were we?"

"The converter." Pasquale's statement was firm. Within moments, Jeff was back into the thick of the discussion.

It was over an hour later when the conference broke up. Jeff was satisfied that his team knew what was required, and he thanked them all for their hard work. As the men and women left the conference room, Jeff prepared to shut down the link.

"I need a word with you, Jeff." Jeff sighed. He had hoped to avoid a confrontation. Martin Limbeck was brilliant, contentious and just about the last person Jeff wanted to speak with right now. He had noticed Limbeck had been getting antsy for the last hour or so of the conference.

From past experience, Jeff knew that meant the man disagreed with the way the project was going. That the man hadn't disrupted the entire meeting had been a miracle. Knowing the engineer specialized in weapons, it probably had to do with his decision to grant the converter the extra space.

"Yes, Martin, what can I do for you?" Jeff asked the older man politely.

"Jeff, I'm not one to butt in, but I have something to say."

Jeff hid his irritation at the abrupt tone. Martin was one of his hardest working, most respected engineers, despite his prickly personality, and Jeff was determined not the let the man get under his skin. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

"One of your kids asked you why you worked so hard."

"That was Gordon, my six-year-old."

"Yes, well, I'm sure if you think about it, you can come up with any number of good, logical reasons why your work is so important to you. You want a better future for your kids, you have something to contribute to society, you need to pay off the mortgage."

Jeff frowned. Yes, all the reasons Martin was stating were legitimate, valid, but the man's tone was disparaging.

"I know all the reasons. They're the ones I've used all my life. But let me tell you this. I gave my daughters that better future. I've made contributions to society. And thanks to you, I've paid off the mortgage. But now, my daughters are grown and moved away. I see them once a year at Christmas, if I'm lucky and they don't have other plans. Now when I have everything I've worked for, I find that I have nothing." Martin leaned forward, looking Jeff straight in the eye. "Jeff, your sons will only be little for a few precious years. Don't squander your time with them. Because you can take it from me, once you let them get away from you, you'll never get them back, no matter how badly you want them."

Jeff was taken aback. He tried not to sound defensive when he replied, "Thank you for your concern, Martin. As a matter of fact, as soon as I finish up here, I'm going to spend a little time with the boys."

The older man nodded sadly. "Yes, I know... I used to spend 'a little time' with my three girls. It wasn't enough. If I had the time back, Jeff, I'd spend a little time at work, and make my daughters my life." Shrugging, Limbeck stood. "I know I wouldn't have listened back then. But I had to say my piece. Have a good day."

"You too, Martin. And thanks again." Jeff shut the system down. He assumed Martin meant well, but he didn't really understand the situation. Jeff's relationship with his sons was fine. As much as possible he worked from home, although he spent more and more time at the plant. Despite what Gordon had said, his boys understood the importance of his work.

Turning to his other computer, he opened the link with his office. Seeing Rosemary still at her desk, he cocked an eyebrow, saying, "You know, Rosie, I get enough guff here at home. I don't need it from you."

The woman looked up, startled. "Guff? What do you mean, Jeff?"

"I believe I told you to take a half day off, yet there you are at your desk."

Rosie turned on a look of affectionate exasperation on her boss. "Did you really think I'd leave you in the lurch? I just want to be sure you don't need anything before I shut down for the day."

Jeff could think of at least ten things he needed done, but instead smiled, "Thanks for hanging in there, Rosie, but no. You go take the kids to a movie or something, and I'll see you in the morning."

"You're coming in?"

"Yes. I'll be there by nine o'clock."

"Jeff, are you sure? You've been out of the country for over a month. Wouldn't you like to take a couple of days to rest up?"

"Thanks for the thought, but frankly, with the boys on summer vacation, there is no resting in this household. I'll be coming in to get a little peace and quiet."

Rosemary chuckled at the joke. "Well, all right then, I'll see you tomorrow."

Jeff smiled an acknowledgement then shut the computer down. He sat back for a moment, taking a deep breath. His eyes strayed to the pile of paperwork on the corner of his desk. His fingers itched to start working, but he had made a promise, and he always kept his promises. He gathered the papers together and put them in his briefcase. He started to shut the case, when the page on top caught his eye. He reached in and picked it up and started reading. Soon he was absorbed in a technical explanation. Grabbing a pad and pen, he started jotting notes.

He was still jotting the notes over an hour later when there was a knock on the door. He looked up, startled as Scott backed in, once again carrying a tray. "I brought you some lunch, Dad."

"Is it lunch time already?"

"Actually, it's almost two o'clock. I had to wait until Grandma went out to the barn to bring you this. She's really pissed, Dad."

Jeff ran a hand through his hair. "Damn, I got involved in something. You should have come and got me, Scott."

"We tried, remember?"

"Yes, you did, didn't you? Well, there's no help for it now. I suppose there'll be no dessert for me tonight."

"Try for the next ten years. What is it that Grandma wants you to do, anyway? I tried to get her to tell me, so I could do it, but she said it was something only you could do."

Jeff who had been eating the peanut butter sandwich as quickly as he could, took a swig of milk to clear his throat. "She wants me to spend the day with you boys. I want to, but this is just such a bad time."

"Oh. Well, I understand. Your work is important to you. I won't tell the guys the reason. I mean, Virg would get it, and probably John, but Gordon and Alan, well, they're just kids, you know."

Scott's attempts to reassure his father just made Jeff feel worse. "Son, you boys are more important to me than my work. Don't you doubt that for a second. It's just that… Well, it's nothing. Let's go get your brothers and unload the car. I've got some good stuff for you all."

"Okay, Dad." Scott smiled, and Jeff ruffled the boy's hair. He let Scott lead the way down the stairs.

When they reached the kitchen, Jeff asked, "Where is everybody?"

"Out behind the barn."

"Well, I'll tell you what, why don't we mosey on out to the car for a moment. I've got something for you."

Scott responded casually, but his eyes were lit up. "Okay, sure, if you'd like."

"Yeah, I'd like. Come on." Jeff led the way to the dust-covered SUV. He felt his pockets for the keys, then frowned. "I must have left the keys inside."

"Oh, uh, here they are. I put them in my pocket when I came down and got your briefcase."

Jeff took the keys and went to the back of the car, opening the tailgate. He rummaged around for a bit, then pulled out a bag emblazoned with the name of a bookstore. He handed the bag to Scott, and with raised eyebrows, bid him open it up.

Scott eyed the bag doubtfully, but obediently reached in and pulled out two heavy books. He read the title of the top book out loud. "Principles of Flight."

Scott looked questioningly at his father, but Jeff just smiled and indicated the second book. Scott juggled the two books, and read aloud again. "Private Pilot Flight Maneuvers?"

Jeff waited for the light to go on, but when Scott didn't immediately get it, he couldn't wait to tell him. Feigning nonchalance, he said, "Well, I was thinking if you studied those books, I'd teach you how to fly the Cessna. You can get your license at fifteen."

Scott's jaw dropped. "Really? You mean it, Dad?"

"Well, it'll be up to you, of course, but yes, I mean it. I know you've been looking into it, and I think it's high time we did something about it."

"Oh, wow, thanks, Dad!"

Jeff threw his arm over his son's shoulders. "You're welcome, son. And before we go get your brothers, let me just tell you how proud I am of you. Any success I have in business is in part because of you. You've really stepped up to the plate for me, keeping things in line here, and I want you to know I truly appreciate it,"

Scott flushed, "Thanks, Dad."

"Okay, now, before we get all mushy, why don't you go get the horde? I'll hold on to those books for you."

Scott handed the books over, but before he could run off, Gordon appeared from around the barn, wailing at the top of his lungs. Frowning, Scott called the boy over. Jeff stepped forward, but Gordon ran to Scott, crying, "Scotty! I fell down. Owie! Owie!"

Scott crouched in front of his brother. "Okay, it's okay, Gordy. Where'd you hurt yourself? Let me see."

Gordon pulled his pants leg up revealing a scraped knee. Seeing the scant blood, Gordon wailed. Jeff stepped up, and peered at the knee. "That's what the ruckus is about? Why, that's nothing! I know just the thing to make it better."

Gordon just wailed louder, "Don' wan' no antseptic, it hurts!"

"Hmm. What do you think, Scott? Maybe we could pour chocolate syrup over it."

"I don't think we have any. What about marshmallow crème?"

"With nuts?"

"Yes, and a cherry."

Gordon's eyes had grown wider and wider, and the tears turned to giggles. Jeff smiled down at his son. "What do you think, Gordon?"

"Can we use butterscotch sauce?"

"Well, now, that's just silly. Who ever heard of such a thing? I'll tell you what, let's go in, and I'll clean your knee up, and then we'll come and see if there's something in the car for you."

"What kind of something?" The boy tried to peer around his father.

"Oh, I don't know. Something. Come on." Jeff held out his hand. Gordon absently took his father's hand and followed, with his attention on the trunk of the car with its tantalizing bags and boxes. Jeff led the boy into the kitchen, and lifted him up to sit on the sink.

As he ran the tap, he said, "Pull up those pants."

Gordon did, and watched apprehensively as Jeff took a paper towel and wet it. Jeff grasped the boy's leg and started lightly dabbing at the scrape. "Now, son, I want you to explain to me why you were putting the houses from Johnny's Monopoly set up your nose."

Gordon grinned impudently. "'Cause it was funny, Daddy. You shoulda seen Allie. His nose was all bulgy and the house was sticking partway out, an' it looked like a booger!"

Jeff fought the smile that threatened. "Were they your Monopoly houses?"

Belatedly realizing his father wasn't happy, Gordon froze, then lowered his head. Sighing, he said, "No."

"Did you ask John if you could play with them."

"No." Gordon said, but then continued resentfully, "Johnny never lets us play with his stuff."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I dunno."

"Gordon, how would you like it if someone broke your toys?"

"But I didn't break them, Daddy!"

"Not this time, but you have before. That's why your brother won't let you play with his things. That's his right. If he doesn't say you can, I want you to respect his wishes. Do you understand."

Sighing heavily, Gordon replied, "Yes, Daddy."

"That's my good boy. Now, why don't we go see if there are any presents for you in the car?"

"Presents?" the boy brightened.

"Yes, presents, although I might have forgotten you. I was getting so many gifts, I might have just left you out."

Gordon smiled happily, "No, you didn't Daddy! What did you get me?"

Jeff laughed at his son's cocky attitude, "Let's go see!"

Gordon hopped down from the sink and ran to the door. Jeff followed, smiling fondly. When they reached the car, Jeff found Scott had called his other brothers over, and now stood guarding the car. Virgil, John and Alan were sitting cross-legged on the ground.

As soon as he saw Jeff, though, Alan jumped up and came running. "Daddy! Daddy! Scotty says there's presents!"

Scooping his son up and swinging him high, Jeff laughed. "Presents? Is it Christmas?"

Alan gaped, "Christmas? It's Christmas?"

Jeff stopped, and said thoughtfully. "Hmmm. I don't think so. Santa doesn't leave Christmas presents in the car, he puts them under the tree. Maybe it's my birthday."

Catching on, Alan giggled. "No, Daddy. If it was your birthday the presents would be for you."

"Well, maybe it's Arbor Day."

"Arbor Day? What's that?"

"It's the day you plant trees. Do you suppose it's Arbor Day?"

"No, 'cause you didn't bring any trees."

"Well, then, why are there presents?"

"'Cause I been good?"

"Have you?"

"I've been really truly good, Daddy."

"Nyuh-uh!" John scoffed.

Alan shot his brother a venomous look, then composing his face into a look of tragic hurt turned back to his father. "Daddy, Johnny hit me."

John leapt up from his seat on the ground, saying, "At least I 'pologized!"

Jeff caught his youngest's eye. "Is that true, Alan? Did your brother apologize?"

With a frown, Alan replied reluctantly. "Yes."

"Did you apologize?"

Alan looked up surprised. "No, Daddy, he hit me, I didn't hit him."

"But you got into Johnny's Monopoly set without permission, didn't you? Did you apologize, son?"

Alan looked away, and shook his head. Jeff let the boy down and barked out, "Line up!"

The five boys scrambled to form a line, facing forward, in order of age, at attention. Jeff struggled to keep the smile from his face. His boys were all so dear to him, and having them all in front of him like this just made his heart swell with love and pride.

Standing ramrod straight, Jeff put his hands behind his back and began to pace in front of the boys. In a command voice that always sent junior officers scurrying, he began. "Gentlemen, the discipline in this unit has been getting lax. I'm seeing a breakdown in morale caused by a loss of focus. Can any of you tell me what that focus is? Lieutenant?"

"Sir, the focus is family, sir!" Scott barked the response in true military fashion.

Jeff nodded approvingly. "Very good, lieutenant. Gentlemen, the focus is family. Family is what makes us strong. Family is what will last for an entire lifetime. This family must work together as a team. When we work as a team, we reach our goals. And do we know exactly what those goals are? Cadet Gordon? Can you tell me?"

"Getting presents?"

"Sergeant, inform the cadet of our goals, please."

Virgil stepped forward. "Sir, the goal is peace and security within the family unit, sir!"

"Exactly! Peace and security. Peace and security is gained when we respect each other and that extends to the property of each member of this family. Peace and security is not gained my treacherous acts of physical violence, nor by undermining the position of other family members. Is that understood?"

Both Scott and Virgil promptly barked, "Sir, yes sir." John joined in a bit belatedly.

"What was that?"

All five boys chorused, "Sir, yes sir!"

"I can't hear you!"

"SIR, YES SIR!"

"Excellent. Now, any questions?"

Alan down at the short end of the line, raised his hand. Jeff nodded permission, and in a meek voice, Alan asked. "Does that mean we don't get any presents?"

"ATTEN-HUT!" Jeff barked, and was gratified by the immediate straightening of his 'troops'. "Gentlemen, say you're sorry."

"Sir, I'm sorry, sir!" Again it was Scott and Virgil who caught on quickest.

"I can't hear you!"

"SIR, I'M SORRY, SIR!" All five boys cried out at the top of their lungs.

"All right, we'll hear no more of the plastic houses up the noses. Now, let's see what's in the trunk, shall we?"

Four of the boys crowded around the trunk, but before Jeff could say anything, Scott was there. "Guys, back off. Let Dad have some room. Everybody take a seat."

The boys obeyed with alacrity, sitting Indian fashion on the ground, all eyes glued to the tantalizing array of boxes and bags in the car. Jeff said, "Thank you, Scott. Now, let's see what we have…"

He reached in for the first bag, and opened it up. Seeing the contents, he held the bag out to his middle son. "This one's for you, John."

John jumped up and grabbed the bag, opening it to see what he'd gotten. He reached in and pulled out a heavy box of baseball cards. "Oh! Oh! Wow! Scotty, look! Baseball cards!"

The boy sat down on the spot and started tearing the box open to get at his prize. He had inherited Scott's baseball card collection just a few months earlier and had become obsessed with his new hobby.

Feeling he had scored a ten, Jeff turned back to the car and pulling out another bag, he didn't even open it, knowing exactly what it held. "Virgil, son, this is for you."

With a huge grin, Virgil got up and took the bag, returning to his place before opening it up. He pulled out four boxes, each a plastic model kit of some famous aircraft. "Dad, this is great! I didn't even know they still made this one! And I've been wanting to get my hands on the Intrepid model for ages! Thanks, Dad!"

Grinning broadly, Jeff replied, "You're welcome, son. Now, let's see what else there is." He turned back to the car and pulled yet another bag out. This one was much smaller than the others. "Scott, this one is for you."

Scott looked up from the baseball card John was showing him, surprise and delight on his face. "Another one? For me?"

Jeff smiled and handed his son the bag. Scott pulled out the plastic case and looked back at his father, amazement on his face. It was the latest in miniaturized computers. Barely bigger than his fist, it was fully functional, with voice actuation software, and virtual screen technology. New on the market, it was very, very expensive. Jeff nodded, saying, "I'll expect an evaluation from you, son. I want to know if this is the wave of the future before I invest in it."

Eyes shining, Scott smiled, "Yes sir!"

Jeff pretended not to notice the jittering of his youngest sons. "Now, I wonder if we should just stop here."

"No, Daddy! You forgot me and Allie!"

Jeff looked at the two youngest. Gordon was waiting expectantly, fully confident his gift was coming. Alan however, had a quivering lower lip.

"Well, let's see if there's anything here, then." Jeff reached in for a colorful bag he knew was there. "Alan, I believe this is for you."

With a happy cry, Alan jumped up and ran to get his bag. Ripping the paper in his hurry, the boy pulled out a colorful box. "Oh! Neat! Gordy! I got a car!"

Alan attacked the plastic wrapping with little success. Jeff watching, turned back to the car, rummaged for a few moments then came up with another small bag. "Scott, Virgil, here."

The two boys promptly came over, and Jeff handled each a small oblong box, marked with a white cross on a red field. The boys opened the boxes to reveal Swiss army knives. "Ah, cool!"

"Thanks, Dad!" Scott grinned and went over to help his baby brother open his gift. Virgil stood checking out all of the blades and tools available.

"Now, boys, I know I can trust you to use those knives wisely."

"Dad? Did you get me a knife too?" John asked hopefully.

"Well, now, no I didn't, son. I think you need a few more years under your belt before you get a knife. But I'll tell you what, I did get you something else. Come over here while I find it." Jeff turned back to the car, looking for a certain bag. Digging through the trunk, he finally found what he was looking for. "Ah! Here it is! Here you go, son."

John eagerly accepted the bag. He pulled out the large package reading aloud. "Short-wave radio with laser tuner. It's a radio."

Jeff nodded, despite John's slightly disappointed tone. "It's a radio that you build yourself. I had one when I was your age. 'Course it didn't have the fancy tuner, but on a clear night I could get stations from all over the world. I had a friend all the way in Finland. Still talk to him every now and then."

John listened thoughtfully, then deciding it was a decent gift, broke into a smile. "Scotty, did you see this? Dad says I can talk to people in Finland with it."

Scott looked up from where he was helping Alan with his gift, and smiled at his brother. "That's cool, Johnny. I'll help you set it up later, okay?"

"Okay, Scotty."

Jeff snorted. "What am I, chopped liver? I'll help you set it up, son."

John looked up at his father, delighted surprise marking his features. "You will? Wow! That'd be great, Dad!"

Jeff reached over ruffling the towhead's hair fondly. "Of course I will. But do you think we should pass out the rest of this stuff first?"

"YES!" Gordon yelled.

Jeff looked over at the redhead, jittering on the ground. He smiled, reaching in for a bag that was right up front. "I guess I didn't forget you after all, son. Come and get it."

Gordon leapt up and ran laughing, to get his gift. Peering in the bag, he exclaimed, "Oh, cool! Look, Allie, it's a car like yours! We can have races!"

"No we can't." Alan's voice was full of regret. "It takes batteries, and we don't got any."

Gordon turned to his father. "Daddy, what bag are the batteries in? Me and Allie need 'em."

Jeff put on a show of confusion. "Batteries? What batteries?"

"Never mind, Daddy, I'll find them." Gordon headed determinedly to the trunk.

Jeff intercepted the boy lifting him up and holding him upside down. "Nice try, Squirt."

Gordon squealed with laughter, "No, Daddy! I mean it, I need batteries so me and Allie can play!"

"Well, maybe there's batteries, and maybe there ain't." Jeff righted his son. "Maybe there are other presents."

Gordon eyed his father speculatively. "Better than a new car?"

Jeff mimicked his son's look. "Maybe."

"Okay." The boy peered over his father's shoulder into the trunk of the car. "Oh! I know what that big one is!"

"Yes, but it's not for you, so keep it down, okay?" Jeff said hurriedly, not wanting Gordon to spoil his surprise.

"Okay, Daddy. Put me down, I wanna open up my car."

Jeff hugged the boy tight for a moment then let him down. "Well, take this bag with you, would you? It's cluttering up my nice car."

The boy immediately forgot all about the car as he took the large bag in both hands, dropping the still shrink-wrapped car to the ground. "Ooo. It's heavy, Daddy."

"Well, if it's too much for you, son, I can always put it away until you're older."

"No, Daddy, I like heavy things! See, I can carry it!" The six-year-old wasted no time putting distance between himself and his father. He went over to where Alan was pushing his battery-less car around on the ground. Plopping himself down next to his brother, Gordon peered into the bag, then cried happily, "Battle Tractors! Hurray! I got Battle Tractors!"

That attracted the attention of his four brothers, and they gathered around to see the most current craze in the under-ten set. Jeff sagged against the tailgate of the SUV, glad for the breather.

Jeff eyed the large box that Gordon had identified. Taking advantage of the boys' distraction, he hauled the box out. On the side that had been facing away from the tailgate was a large colorful graphic that identified the contents.

Jeff turned the graphic toward the boys and sat back waiting for them to notice. Scott was the first to glance up. When he saw what was there, he grinned, and nudged Virgil. Virgil for his part, glanced up, did a double take, and smiled fondly at his youngest brother, but like Scott, didn't say anything.

It was a couple of minutes before Alan looked up, but when he did, his eyes went wide. "OH! OH! Oh, Daddy! Is that for me? My own two-wheeler?"

Jeff couldn't help the huge grin that spread on his face. In the Tracy family, bicycles were traditionally given at Christmas, but when he saw it at the toy store, there was no question in his mind that it was the right time for his youngest to have it. "What do you think, son? Will it do?"

Little Alan was caught speechless with joy. It would take more than a bike to suppress Gordon though, who said happily, "'Course it will. Allie, now we can go for rides together."

Alan nodded excitedly, and ran to hug his father. "Oh, Daddy! Thank you! Can I ride it right now? Can I?"

"Well, it requires some assembly, but I'll see if I can get it together for you."

"I'll go get th' screwdriver!" Alan ran toward the barn, yelling at the top of his lungs. "Grandma, Grandma, guess what? I got my own bike!"

"Scott, you'd better go get my tool kit. I just hope it won't be another one like Johnny's." Some years earlier, Jeff had waited until Christmas Eve to assemble John's first bike, and late that night discovered a crucial part had not been packed.

"Dad, you don't need your tool kit, you can just use this!" With a grin, Virgil held out his new knife.

Jeff chuckled. "Well, I'm no McGyver, but I will borrow your knife to open the box. Thank you, son."

"You're welcome, Dad, but who is McGyver?"

"What? You don't know McGyver? I've sadly neglected you boys' education! McGyver was a TV show when I was a kid. We'll have to bring up the show on the interactive. I know you kids will like it."

Virgil looked steadily at his father. It wasn't hard to tell his opinion of his father's 'moldy oldies', but he didn't say a word, instead letting his smile speak for him. Jeff just smiled back. "You'll see. Now you just help me get the rest of this stuff given out so I can get to work on this bike."

Virgil's smile turned more real, and he helped his father distribute the rest of the gifts until there were only six bags left in the trunk. Jeff stretched for a minute. "Okay, that's it. The rest of this is for your grandmother. Oh, except for this."

Jeff handed Virgil one last large bag. Virgil took it obediently. "Who's it for?"

"Actually, it's for you, son."

With a disbelieving shake of his head, Virgil accepted the gift. "I think you must have been wrong. It really is Christmas!" Opening the bag, the boy made an inarticulate cry of pleasure. He pulled out a stack of sketch and watercolor, paint and doodle pads. "Oh, Dad, this is fantastic! Wow!"

"Look in the box, son," Jeff said, trying to keep the anticipation out of his voice.

Virgil pulled out the large black wooden case. Setting it on the tailgate, he fumbled momentarily with the latch, then pulled it open. The case lifted open, displaying four trays, each filled with a different art supply. "Oh. My. God. Scott! Scott, you gotta come see this! Dad, you are the best!"

The older boy was already trotting back with a heavy black toolbox. He handed the box to Jeff and joined Virgil in pawing through the contents of the art supply box

"You've earned it, kiddo." Jeff called in a satisfied tone. All of his gifts had been successful.

He stood basking in the obvious pleasure his sons had found in his gifts. This was what it was all about.

He was feeling pretty good, when Johnny suddenly said, "uh-oh" under his breath. Jeff frowned and turned to see what the boy was looking at and swallowed hard, as his mother bore down on him, a heavy frown on her face.

"Jefferson Grant Tracy! You said you got a few gifts! It looks like a toy store exploded out here!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jeff saw Gordon surreptitiously hide a toy behind his back. Alan was trailing his Grandma, tightly clutching an oversized screwdriver, his little face wreathed with worry.

Jeff felt his ire rise. "Mother, if I choose to bring home a toy store, it's my choice. And I'll thank you not to interfere!"

Ruth stopped dead in her tracks. Jeff rarely argued or contradicted his mother, but seeing how the joy had left his son's faces had simply infuriated him.

Ruth had a temper of her own, and she stood squared away, eyes narrowed. Before the battle could be joined, however, fourteen-year-old Scott intervened. "Okay, Grandma, Dad, you two just settle down. Grandma, you've told me over and over how you had wished you had the money to get Dad more things when he was a kid. Well, he's got that money. And Dad, I know you didn't mean that about interfering, not with all that Grandma's done for us."

Jeff paused and looked at his son. When had the boy become so mature? Given the moment to get his temper under control, Jeff took a deep breath. "You're right, of course. Mom, I'm sorry."

For a moment, it looked as if Ruth would not let it go, but she glanced around at her five apprehensive grandsons, and with a nod, responded. "I'm sorry, too. You certainly have the right to do as you please." As the five boys released held breaths, she continued. "But I don't have to put up with mess. Boys, you make sure you pick up all of these bags and every scrap of paper."

The five brothers immediately chorused, 'yes, Grandma' and started ostentatiously policing the area.

"Alan, give your father that screwdriver so he can put together that bicycle for you." Having re-established her position, Ruth subsided and after a moment, Gordon ran up to show her his new toys.

Jeff kept a wary eye on his mother as he and Scott worked to assemble the new bike. Within fifteen minutes, Jeff tightened one last bolt and stood back to admire his work. "There. Done."

"Yaaaayyyy!" Alan ran up and grabbing the handlebars, mounted his shiny new bike.

"Just a minute, there, young man. Helmet and kneepads, please."

"Aw, Grandma, I just wanna try it out."

"Now, buddy." Jeff easily backed his mom. He stood holding the bike as the five-year-old climbed off and ran pell-mell for the house.

John approached, a sheaf of instructions clasped in his hands. "Daddy, can we make my radio, now?"

Jeff looked down into the hopeful blue eyes and smiled fondly, "Well, I reckon we can in a bit. First, I need to teach your brother how to ride this fine bicycle."

Johnny looked at him oddly. "Dad, Alan already knows how."

"What? When did that happen?" Jeff blurted out.

John shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. Scotty taught him. Can we build my radio?"

The simple comment had a profound effect on Jeff. Feeling suddenly light-headed, he sat down, hard, on the tailgate of the SUV. A flood of memories overcame him, a montage of first steps, first words, first days at school. He had been there for most of it. His dear wife Lucille had insisted on it. And when his duties as an astronaut had prevented it, Lucille had insured that the momentous events were filmed so he didn't feel he had missed anything.

But since her death, things had been different. He had taught both Johnny and Gordon to ride their first bikes, but he had been out of town for Scott's first day of high school. Virgil had gone as far as the state finals in Topeka with his Little League team, but Jeff had congratulated him by phone instead of being there. And now little Alan had learned to ride a bike without his father's help.

Jeff looked around with new eyes. He saw how his sons turned to one another instead of him when they needed help. He saw how truly young Scott was, trying hard to fill his father's shoes, leaving his own childhood aside.

Martin's words came back to him with new meaning. Things that his mother had tried to tell him. Even Rosie O'Sullivan worked to get him to see what had just struck him with the force of a hammer blow. His stomach clenched with a fear that he hadn't felt since that dark day when Lucille had been taken from him. He could lose his boys. He could really lose his boys.

He felt a tug, and he looked down to find Alan pulling at the bike in his hand, looking absurdly small with the oversized helmet and knee and elbow pads. He released his hold, feeling as if he had just come out of a long dark tunnel.

Oblivious to his father's fugue, Alan called out happily, "Watch me, Daddy! Watch how good I can ride!"

The small boy straddled the bike, and putting one foot on a pedal, pushed off, wobbling away down the drive. Scott looked up from his computer, cheering his brother on. "Go, Alan, go!"

Alan pedaled harder, getting up a bit of speed, and Jeff felt his heart swell despite the earth shaking revelation of a few minutes earlier. Clapping his hands, he whooped a cheer, "That's my boy! Keep going, Alan!"

"Yeah, go away." John commented resentfully.

Startled, Jeff looked down at his other blond son, to find the boy watching Alan, but clutching his radio set. Jeff marveled that any of his boys would still want to spend time with him. He reached over and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. John flinched, apparently not realizing he had made his comment out loud. "Now, son, none of that. There's plenty of time to build that radio. I just want to watch your brother for a few more minutes, then we'll get to work."

"But what if somebody calls?" John's tone was wary.

"What do you mean, son?"

"People always call, then you have to go away."

"That's 'cause his work's really really important, right, Daddy?" Gordon piped up from where he was playing with his toys.

Jeff pursed his lips. "Come here, boys."

John and Gordon came up to the SUV, John apprehensively, Gordon with a happy grin. Jeff reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "John, do me a favor, and turn the ringer off."

John's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. As Jeff held the phone out, the boy hesitantly reached out and pushed the appropriate button. "Thank you. Gordon, how fast do you think you can run and put this phone on the dresser in my bedroom?"

"Real fast, Daddy!"

"Well, get going then." Jeff handed the phone to the child who ran off as quick as his short little legs could take him.

Jeff turned his attention back to John. "Any other questions?"

John stood for a moment, his breath catching. To Jeff's surprise, the boy suddenly threw himself at his father, wrapping his arms tightly around Jeff's neck. Within a few moments, Virgil and Scott were there, joining in the group hug. Alan, who had ridden to the end of the drive, and back, saw what was going on, and jumped off his bike, and came over, climbing up into the SUV to hug Jeff from behind.

As he basked in his sons' love, he realized it wasn't too late. His work was important, but it was nothing compared to this. He felt his eyes well up with emotion. He could have lost this. He could have let it slip away. He thanked his lucky stars that he had been awakened in time. He held his boys tighter, unwilling to let go.

"Hey!" Jeff opened his eyes to find Gordon standing a few feet away, hands on hips, face screwed up with indignation. "What are you guys hugging without me for?"

Virgil answered before Jeff could open his mouth. "We weren't hugging without you, Squirt. We were just getting Dad warmed up for you."

Gordon's stormy face cleared right up. The silly explanation seemed to make sense to him, and he came right over, and climbed into his father's lap, pushing Scott and John out of the way. "Okay, NOW we can hug."

With a laugh, the other boys reached again, and Jeff found himself at the center of a warm group hug. It lasted for a good two minutes before the squirming started. Regretfully, Jeff dropped his hold. The two youngest hopped down, and ran for their racecars, challenging each other to a race.

Virgil looked at Jeff, something like compassion in his eyes. Jeff acknowledged the look with a smile, releasing the eleven year old to go back to his sketching. Scott sat down on Jeff's right side. John was already sitting on his left leaning into Jeff's embrace, and showed no inclination to leave.

Scott asked quietly, "Dad, you okay?"

Taking a deep breath, Jeff nodded. "Oh, yes, I am. I am getting better by the minute."

Scott nodded. "Good. For a minute there, I thought you were upset or something."

"No. I'm fine. John and I have a date with Finland this afternoon. And I've been thinking maybe we should start up game night again."

Puzzled, Johnny asked. "Game night? What's that?"

Scott was grinning ear to ear. "Don't you remember game night, Johnny? Dad used to play Candyland with us."

John clearly had no memory of it, but Jeff and Scott both smiled at the memories. Lucille had started a once-a-week game night, when the television was turned off, and all work was set aside to gather as a family and play games. Jeff nodded in remembrance. The last time they had had a game night, Johnny was only about four, and unable to read, so the games had been correspondingly simple. Candyland and Hi Ho Cherry-o were favorites.

John scoffed. "I don't want to play that baby game."

"Well, how about we teach Gordon and Alan Monopoly? Maybe if they know what the pieces are for, they'll be less inclined to stick them up their noses."

John looked up at his father. "You mean, you'd play Monopoly with me?"

"Well, the idea is we all play. As a family."

John took in the idea, and slowly started to smile. "Okay."

"Okay, then. We'll have our first game night tonight. In the meantime, what say you and I go into the kitchen and start building us a radio?"

"Can I come? I'd kind'a like to see how it works," Scott asked.

Virgil looked up. "Me too."

Gordon and Alan looked up. "Can we come too?"

Jeff looked down at his son. "It's up to you, John. What do you think?"

The young blond considered for a few moments. "Okay, but they only get to watch. Just you and me get to build it, right?"

"That sounds fair to me. What do the rest of you boys think?"

The four other boys made affirming sounds, and soon, the boys trooped away toward the house. Jeff hung back for a moment to gather the bags in the trunk for his mother. He turned to follow the boys, and found himself face to face with his mother. "Oh, you startled me. Mom, these are for you."

Ruth smiled as she took the offered bags. "Thank you, son. Are you all right? You look a bit pale."

"Oh Mom, I just dodged the biggest bullet of my life."

"What do you mean, honey?"

"When I realized Alan didn't need me to teach him to ride a bike, I don't know, I just suddenly saw how I've drifted away from my boys."

Ruth took her son's arm as they headed for the house. "That's the trouble with drifting. It happens so gradually that you don't even notice it's happening."

Jeff shook his head. "You know, I had the boys line up just a while ago. I told them we had a breakdown in morale because of a loss of focus. I had Scott remind them that the focus was family. He said the words, and everyone seemed to listen except me."

"You're listening now?"

"You'd better believe. I can only hope it isn't too late."

"Oh, honey, don't you ever believe it's too late! Those boys adore you. You just remember what Scott said and you'll be fine. In fact, I might just make you a sampler to remind you. 'The focus is family.' It has the feel of a homily, doesn't it?"

"It does. I don't know if a sampler will do it. Maybe I should have it tattooed across my forehead." Jeff said wryly.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far. Maybe you could just tattoo 'focus' on the knuckles of your left hand, and 'family' on the right."

Jeff chuckled. "That'll leave my forehead free for advertising space. 'Joe's Diner' or some such."

Ruth laughed merrily. Mother and son, they entered the house to the raucous noise of five boys just being themselves. Jeff closed his eyes for a moment, drinking in the sound. He opened his eyes, a new resolve in his heart. He vowed to never forget this day, and how he could have lost everything that mattered in his life. With a smile at his mother, he headed for the kitchen and the lives of his sons.

The End.


End file.
